The Stanley Hall Massacre
by midnightdesperato
Summary: The true story behind the Pendleton University Urban Legend is recounted by the new girl. I'll be updating this chapter by chapter. The early chapters will be very similar to the 1998 movie Urban Legend, before it takes off in a new direction. Enjoy!
1. Urban Legend

The storyteller leaned back into the couch, exasperated. "Does anybody here believe me?" His friends all backed away from him, shaking their heads.

"Not a chance, no."

"No, man."

The new girl with brown hair had been eagerly listening in on the story, but now she shook her head a little, smiled and leaned forward, her hand raised in the air.

"I believe you," she said.

"Thank you," said the storyteller, relieved that at least one person accepted the tale as truth.

"But you didn't tell it right," said the brunette. "I didn't?" asked the storyteller, skeptically.

She chuckled. "Not at all," she revealed confidently, a smirk appearing. She had the attention of the entire group.

"Okay, listen up, guys, 'cause this is how the story really goes."


	2. Michelle Goes for a Drive

The Sunday night drive back to campus was always a time for relaxation and contemplation for Michelle. Once a month she made the trip back up to her parents place in Augusta for the weekend where they'd feed her proper meals and wash her laundry free of charge. This past weekend had been particularly uneventful and a huge bore, but she returned to Pendleton University with a full stomach and clean clothes.

The drive was about 4 hours long and so she'd always made sure to have her Jeep stacked with an endless array of cassettes, from Bon Jovi to Savage Garden to Whitney Houston, and even harder stuff like Weezer and Liz Phair. She currently had the radio on silent, so as to better collect her thoughts on what she'd been preparing to carry out this upcoming week. She knew they attended the same school, she'd just have to pick up the courage and search her out and confront her; it was the only way she could ever make amends.

The night had fallen early, and the moon was nowhere to be seen, clouds loomed overhead and grew dark and heavy. The road in front of her winded and rose and fell with the rolling landscape. The road was paved smooth, and it made the drive peaceful and comfortable. Michelle glanced at the digital clock that read "9:26".

She switched the radio on and scanned the stations until she landed on 103.1. She may still be able to hear the final caller on "Under the Covers" if she was lucky. A woman's smokey rasp filled the car. She was in conversation with a different woman and Michelle tuned into their discussion.

"We're still talking to.."

"Jane. Sophomore. Hi."

"So you've been stealing your roommate's birth control pills?"

"Borrowing, okay. She's never noticed before because I always replaced them with baby aspirin."

"With what?"

"Baby aspirin. Looks exactly the same. Anyway, now she's pregnant and has to leave school and now I'm going to be stuck with a new roommate for the rest of the semester."

"Well, it sounds like you're getting off easy compared to your roommate?"

"I'm serious, Sasha, I don't know what to do!"

"I think you need to take a long hard look in the mirror and re-examine your priorities. I'm sorry, Jane, but we're all out of time for the night."

The line clicks and Michelle hears Sasha sigh with clear exasperation.

"Anyways, thank you my lovers for joining me under the covers. Tune again tomorrow night at 8 o'clock. This is Sasha signing off on W-ZAB, the voice of Pendleton University."

Michelle laughed and turned down the volume. That program was always good for a laugh. She had no idea how the host, Sasha, managed to be so patient with all the idiotic callers.

Listening to the radio, even for a brief moment, had put her in the mood for some music after an hour of nothing but the thoughts in her head. Michelle reached to the back of the stack of cassettes, searching for Bonnie Tyler. The cassettes were arranged in alphabetical order by last name, and so she had to reach to the very back. She grabbed at random cassettes, hoping to snatch the right one by chance. After several unsuccessful tries, she gave up to focus on the road. Up ahead a car swerved around the bend, it's headlights turned off. Michelle chuckled to herself and, with her right hand, switched her high-beams on for a split second before turning them off.

The car didn't react immediately to her warning. Instead, it started to drift into her lane. Michelle honked her horn, the sound blaring through the night. The car kept swerving until Michelle had to dodge the car by dipping onto the shoulder. The oncoming car's own horn erupted aggressively as it passed by, its driver shrouded in darkness.

"Oh my God!" Michelle's heart thundered in her chest. She breathed a deep, long sigh, and tried to compose herself. She kept her eyes on the road and didn't look away for a long while.

Several minutes passed without incident. Michelle's heart rate was back to normal. She reached back to the cassettes for one last attempt at grabbing the right one. He fingers crawled against the spines and she picked one that felt a bit less slippery than the others. She looked down at the cassette and was elated to see Bonnie Tyler displayed across the cover. Grinning wildly, she opened it and inserted the tape into the dashboard.

"_Turn around…"_

Michelle began to sing along, her voice unsteady and out of tune, but enthusiastic all the same. She loved Bonnie Tyler, and especially loved this song.

Drip, drip, drip. Small raindrops pelted the windshield. Michelle turned on the wipers. A little rain wouldn't bother her, she was less than 30 minutes from school anyways; nearly there. The rain splattered more frequently. "Shit"

Then she noticed her gas tank was nearly empty as well. "Shit, shit." The rain had turned into a storm, and her wipers were working overtime to keep the windshield cleared of water. She kept her eyes peeled, looking for a place to stop and fill up her tank. Then she spotted one, just up ahead on the left hand side of the road.

Michelle pulled the Jeep into the gas station. It was a little decrepit, but the lights were on and the pumps seemed to be in working order. She pulled up beside the pumps and slowed to a stop. The rain poured down hard outside her window. She called for an attendant by honking her horn 3 times.

She sat patiently, no one seemed to be coming. She put her hand on the wheel and prepared to honk the horn again. Suddenly, a fist slammed onto her window and her heart leaped from her chest.

An old man stood outside the window. His wet hair hung in limp curls in front of his face. His eyes were big, and stared intensely into her vehicle. His stare made her uncomfortable and she shifted away from the window. He noticed her discomfort and turned away to look at the ground. He seemed to be choking, but she realized he was struggling to form a question.

"R-r-run out of g-gas?" He continued to stare away from her and looked anywhere but into her car.

"Yeah, fill it up, please." She removed her credit card from her wallet and rolled down the window an inch to pass it to the attendant. She slid the card through the tiny opening and he grabbed it from her hands. She rolled the window shut. "Freak show."

The attendant removed the cap of the tank and shoved the pump into the Jeep and pressed down on the handle. The counter on the pump started spinning, the numbers getting higher. Michelle sat and waited. The attendant looked into the Jeep's backseat and then hurriedly ran back into the main office. Michelle watched him unlock the front door and slip inside. The gas continued to pump into the Jeep.

He ran back outside after less than a minute inside his office. He approached her door and knocked at the window, softly this time. He continued looking away from Michelle, hesitant to make eye contact again.

"M-m-miss? C-c-can you come inside for a m-minute, please?" Michelle thought he seemed hesitant about asking her this.

"Is there a problem?" Heading into that dingy office with this strange man was one of the last things she wanted to do right now.

"Credit c-card company's on the phone. Want to s-s-speak with you." He finally looked up into her eyes as he finished this appeal. His eyes begged her to come with him.

"Okay, hold on a minute," she said, agreeing to the request. He nodded and backed away a few feet from the Jeep. "Shit." Michelle was nervous and uneasy, and so she slipped a can of mace from her purse into her jacket pocket in case things went south.

She left her vehicle and entered the rain. The old man lingered ahead of her and held his arm out pointing the way to his office. Michelle clicked the button to lock the door of the Jeep and rushed to the door to get out of the rain.

They entered together and Michelle noticed the office's dingy smell and lack of upkeep. She spotted the phone over on a table and walked over to speak with the credit card company representative. She picked up the phone. "Hello." There was no one there, the dial tone hummed. Her stomach dropped; the old man had lured her in here to hurt her. She panicked and her breathing suddenly became labored and harsh. The man turned to her and attempted to say something, but she was having none of it. She pushed him away as hard as she could. "No! Don't touch me!"

The man had his hands on her and grabbed at her shoulders. She saw that anger and hate was etched on his face. It horrified her and she nearly froze up with terror. She searched through her pocket for her can of mace and wrapped her hand around it and brought it out and sprayed it all over his head. He screamed and cried in pain and fell to the floor, his hands clawed at the mixture that burned at skin around his eyes and nose. Michelle scanned the room and spotted the phone and lifted it off the table and threw it at the window. The glass shattered and she raised her leg up to the frame and pushed away any remaining bits that were stuck in place. The man realized what she was doing and attempted to get to his feet. Michelle had both her legs up and through the window when the man reached out for her arms. She swatted him away and screamed and bit anything that came near. She pushed against him and fell to the other side and her butt hit the ground while her legs kicked at his face and hands up at the broken window.

She scrambled to her feet and sprinted as fast as she could to her Jeep. She desperately clicked the button to unlock the door and turned her head to see if she was being pursued. She could see the man still in the office behind the shattered window.

She reached her Jeep and grabbed at the door and wretched it open and clambered inside. She shoved the key into the ignition and turned it on. The Jeep lit up, headlights on and Bonnie Tyler's voice radiating through the speakers. She adjusted the gears and the old man appeared in front of her car and smashed his fists down on the hood of the Jeep.

"Stop!" His voice exploded with anger. Michelle slammed her foot onto the pedal and sped off, knocking the old man to the ground. The gas pump broke off its line and hit the ground as gas spilled from its container. Michelle watched the man stand up through her rear-view mirror and heard him yell out to her, but she was long gone and his voice was lost in the storm.

She cried and cried, and tried to get control of her breathing as she heaved and gasped for air. Her knuckles were ghost-white they were gripped so tightly around the steering wheel. The wipers swished and swayed against the windshield, sending the excess water flying off into the dark of the night. And Bonnie Tyler continued to belt her song.

"_Turn around!"_

Water dripped from her bangs and into her eyes. She wiped it away. The road twisted and turned and Bonnie Tyler sang.

_"Every now and then I fall apart!"_

She hiccuped and coughed. She began to sing alongside Bonnie again, like before, before she pulled over and was attacked.

_"Turn around, bright eyes!"_

Michelle glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw it; a shadowy figure rose up in the backseat and then drifted through the rear windshield and appeared again behind her car. It sped along behind her like a ghost, a wisp of something unnatural and sinister. It grew larger and then shape-shifted. It grew and grew until it was the size of a semi-truck. Suddenly, bright lights exploded from within the shape, like headlights, shining like a star and blinding Michelle. It honked its horn and the noise was ear-splitting. Michelle lost control of her Jeep and shielded her head as it ran off the road. A wire, or something like it, appeared from nowhere, and it sliced through the Jeep like butter. Michelle's head and hands were separated from the rest of her body.

Without Michelle pressing down onto the pedal, the Jeep slowed and slammed into the ditch. The headless body was still strapped into its seat belt when the airbag erupted, sending bits of loose and fraying neck sinew flying into the backseat. Michelle's head, completely severed, had been flung into the backseat, along with her hands.

The figure that had swirled and shape-shifted was nowhere to be seen when the Jeep had crashed. It seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving no trace of anything having been there at all except the body, which remained strapped into the Jeep, slowly bleeding out.


	3. Under the Covers with Sasha

Sasha Thomas was Pendleton University's own mini-celebrity. She walked the hallways with a commanding confidence and would leave signs of awe and jealousy in her wake. Very few had the boldness to approach her uninvited, and even fewer could claim to belong to her social circle. The closest many students came to interacting with Sasha was by listening to "Under the Covers", a thrice-weekly radio program devoted to all things sex. Many curious and eager listeners devoted their evenings to the radio, lapping up Sasha's raspy and sensual voice like a man in the desert, dying of thirst. The infinite sexual knowledge that would emit from speakers only increased the aura of sensuality that surrounded her.

Debate raged on whether Sasha was aware of her reputation on campus. Many claimed to have first-hand accounts of her vain and vacuous ignorance, while many others asserted that she had an almost preternatural understanding of the on-campus gossip and trends and, thus, used it to her advantage. Those in argument of the former pointed no further than her boyfriend, Parker Riley, as proof of her simple-mindedness. Parker was a member of Omega Sigma Phi, and his reputation on campus, aside from sharing a bed with Sasha every night, was for his wild parties and boorish behavior. Antagonist feelings toward Sasha, from men and women alike, usually referenced Parker as evidence for their argument. The extremely jealous and bitter would pass over Parker altogether and really shoot for the knees, "I heard she kicks puppies."

Sasha, of course, was aware of her status, and played into it. She'd host parties without sending out invitations or where it would be located; she had business cards, but no one ever received one from her personally; she wore outdated clothes as fashion statements, and had the rest of the student body mimicking her style. No one knew her schedule, either. She could often be seen waltzing causally into lectures halfway through and filing her nails or touching up her hair before handing in papers that would come back with perfect grades. Rumors circulated on campus that she had no set schedule and professors gladly welcomed her into their lecture halls whenever suited her best.

Some people even spread rumors about her dormitory, and that the school was paying for her to live in a giant luxury suite despite having no scholarship of any kind. This was patently untrue, as Sasha's dorm room was perfectly normal, down to the cramped quarters that could barely fit in two tiny beds and a closet that overflowed even if you didn't have an entire fashion line at your disposal. Posters of bands and musicians and models adorned the walls on the left half of the room, Polaroids of young people smiling and laughing covered the wall of the other half. These rumors were able to spread because Sasha was seldom seen coming or going from her dorm room on the fourth floor on Kennedy Hall.

On the afternoon of a chilly October Monday, Sasha was seen making a surprise visit to her dormitory. She quickly dodged past harried students who were coming and going, stressed out over midterms. She wore sunglasses and a long, black coat that shielded her body from onlookers like the sunglasses shielded her eyes. She had slipped into her room without so much as a hello or a wave to anyone else and stayed inside longer than anyone was willing to wait for her to come back out.

* * *

Sasha considered her reflection in her room's tiny mirror. Her eyes studied the hem of her black skirt, which rode up high on her thigh. She turned away from the mirror to see her outfit from behind. Her left hand ran up the length of her leg and hips before bringing it up to her mouth. She blew a kiss into the mirror over her shoulder. She seemed satisfied and turned to face the mirror once again. She leaned forward, unfastened one of the buttons of her red shirt, and adjusted her bust. She blew a kiss once again.

On the bed in the corner an unkempt and bespectacled girl eyed Sasha from behind a textbook. One could mistake the look as a look of longing, but upon closer inspection it was one of disdain and mild envy. Sasha continued to posture and pose, and the girl on the bed rolled her eyes and shook her head before returning her focus to the textbook. Without a word or even a look at her roommate, Sasha turned from the mirror, grabbed her purse, donned her jacket and sunglasses, and hurried from the room. The door closed shut with a quick snap.

Sasha walked with a brisk pace through the corridors of the dormitory building. Various male students stared as she passed, though she continued on as though she hardly noticed the attention.

Upon leaving the front doors of her dormitory, Sasha shook out her hair, breathed a deep, peaceful breath, and headed toward the radio station.

The campus radio station was on the third floor of the building that also housed the bookstore, the largest food court, and the conference halls. An open atrium with a large glass ceiling allowed ample sunlight to stream into the building, illuminating the perfectly designed courtyard. In the center of the courtyard was a winding staircase, zigzagging from one floor to the next in a circular motion. Sasha usually took the elevator at the foot of this staircase, but today she took the stairs. She passed by several acquaintances on her way up to the third floor. She smiled, but did not stop to chat.

She entered the radio's engineering room and greeted Jason, her friend and the producer of her show. His gummy smile lit up every room he was in. He was wearing that stupid Hawaiian shirt again, without another shirt underneath it. If anything Jason was singular. She deposited her coat on the rack behind the door and placed her sunglasses on the round table in the center of the room.

The radio station was a two-compartment room; the recording room was Sasha's domain, and she ruled it like a queen. The round table was filled with cups holding pens, stacks of fashion and women magazines, two phones, and a wiry, bendable stand holding a microphone. Sasha's own customized chair sat in the corner closest to the large window that overlooked the atrium. Sasha walked over to the chair and pulled it close to the table and fell into it as if she'd had a long and exhausting day. Then she grabbed a magazine from the smallest pile, pulled her legs onto the top of the table and began to read an article about this year's hottest Halloween costumes.

The other room was the engineer's room, and it was filled with technical equipment and a host of other things that Sasha didn't understand. She had no idea what went on in there, but Jason did, and that's all that mattered to her. The two rooms were separated by a wall with giant sound-proofed window that spanned nearly the length of the room and at least half its height.

Sasha continued to read and Jason adjusted dials and knobs and other things on the sound board. Sasha noticed a particularly interesting costume that wouldn't be too difficult to pull off. She underlined it with her pen and would consider wearing it at Parker's party later this week. Their show started in just a few minutes.

* * *

"You're Under the Covers with Sasha on W-ZAB, the voice of Pendleton University. Caller?" Sasha leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, and spun a pen between her fingers. It was the final caller of the night; they only had 3 minutes left before the nightly music hour would be aired.

"Hello?" The voice released screechy feedback emitting from the speakers and Sasha winced. She motioned for Jason to adjust the frequency and lower the volume. Through the window, he nodded his understanding and rolled his chair over to the switchboard to work his magic.

"I'm right here," Sasha replied. Jason had finished adjusting the pitch and raised up a large flashcard with the name 'Felicia' written in felt marker. "Felicia, how can I help you?"

"Well, um, it's kind of embarrassing." Felicia sounded young, maybe a freshman. Sasha didn't mind when freshmen called in, but their questions and concerns were often redundant and obvious; mostly they called in because they wanted to be on the radio.

"Spit it out, Felicia."

"Well, that's, just the problem. I mean, I didn't."

Sasha smiled against her better judgment and pulled the microphone stand closer to her face. "Ah, had yourself a little frat-boy protein shake, did ya?" She stuck out her tongue and wiggled it against the tip of the microphone. Through the window she saw Jason laugh heartily.

"Sasha I've been feeling so sick. I swear, I can feel them swimming inside me. Should I get my stomach pumped or something?"

Sasha shook her head at what she was hearing. She furrowed her brows and pointed to her head, signaling to Jason that the girl was clueless.

'Felicia, I think the only thing you need pumped is the air out of your head," Sasha asserted. Jason nodded in agreement, and Sasha smiled at his approval. "First, there's nothing embarrassing about giving head; it's a normal sexual interaction and swallowing does no harm to your body." Sasha thought her words might have sounded condescending, but girls like Felicia were going to keep spreading misinformation and unhealthy practices among their friends if they weren't educated. "Second, make sure your man reciprocates your lovin' because, sweetie, you deserve as much pleasure as he does."

"Really?" Felicia sounded genuinely surprised by this information.

"Really." Their time was nearly spent and Sasha was through with this girl. She would have to wrap it up within the next minute. "My suggestion is that you just down a couple shots of Pepto, and next time, if he doesn't want to get down on you, then get away from his volcano before it erupts." Sasha snapped her fingers and, in an instant, the line between her and Felicia was cut. It was just her and the listeners now.

"That wraps up another night. Thanks to all you lovers who called in for a chat. Join me under the covers again on Friday at 10 o'clock. This is Sasha signing off on W-ZAB, the voice of Pendleton University."


	4. The Stanley Hall Massacre

The coffee shop always took far too long to bring out drinks, and so Natalie waited by the radio to pass the time, listening to Sasha finish her broadcast for the night. She drummed her fingers against the counter top and stared off into space. The nights were arriving early, and the window behind the counter revealed a blustery, cold night.

Natalie felt like she hadn't quite adjusted to University life yet, despite this being her second year attending Pendleton. She had lived at home the previous year, with her parents, and took a half schedule to make the transition easier. Her final year of high school hadn't been easy, especially after the accident, the incident that haunted her to this day.

She'd made friends, but still felt like an outsider, someone who had to put in that extra effort to be invited for coffee and to parties. At least Brenda was there beside her, in the same boat, trying to navigate their way through Pendleton's social circles.

Sasha's voice droned out of the speakers, finishing up a conversation with a girl named Felicia. "…away from the volcano before it erupts!"

"Natalie," the mousy barista announced. Natalie didn't expect the lattes arrive so soon and so she wasn't paying attention. The barista announced again, "Two lattes for Natalie." Natalie snapped out of her daydream. "Sorry," she said, as she grabbed the two cups.

The outro music to Sasha's show started playing, "This is Sasha signing off on W-ZAB, the voice of Pendleton University."

Natalie returned to the couches where Brenda and Parker were still in a heated conversation about football. "Parker, how exactly does Sasha come up with the stuff she says on her show?"

Parker was an older guy, 25 or 26, she couldn't remember; he'd been attending Pendleton for 6 years now and showed no signs of ever wanting to leave. He was dating Sasha, but seemed to gather and collect dozens of girls and keep them in his orbit at all times. He had approached Brenda back in September and invited her to a party at the fraternity house and she invited Natalie along in case it turned out to be something more than just a party invite and needed an excuse to duck out early. However, her concerns were unfounded and the night was a blast. Natalie ended up befriending Sasha, who stayed with her and Brenda all night and introduced them to everyone and made sure they never felt awkward or left out. Natalie tolerated Parker, who could be as charming as he was abrasive, but knew that Brenda enjoyed their pointed debates about sports. She couldn't see what Sasha saw in him, but she had always figured it was the things he wasn't allowed to show in public that had roped her into his bed.

"She devours every issue of Cosmo; calls it her Bible." Parker tossed the crossword he was struggling with to the coffee table next to the couch. Natalie passed Brenda's mug to her; she mouthed "Thank you", placed her hand on Natalie's arm, and cradled the hot cup carefully in her other hand.

Brenda was everything Natalie wasn't. She was outgoing, she was athletic, she was likable. Her mane of brown curls framed a sharply defined face, and she knew how to rock an outfit that showed off her toned body. Natalie could feel herself sinking into the background whenever she was with Brenda. Natalie sat next to her on the couch and crossed her legs. Brenda sat cross-legged, feet up on the couch. She was always able to make herself comfortable wherever she went.

"So, tell us about the story of Stanley Hall that you've been going on and on about," Brenda demanded. Parker grinned, excited that she'd finally asked.

'Right." He cracked his fingers and neck as if preparing for some strenuous activity. "So, there was this guy, he was a professor on campus, right, maybe about 50 years ago-"

"What did he teach?" Brenda asked, as she squeezed Natalie's leg. Natalie noticed that Brenda's gaze was diverted to the other side of the coffee shop and turned to see why. Of course; Paul Gardner had just walked in.

'I don't know, physics or some shit like that."

"Abnormal Psychology." Paul stood in line at the counter and had interrupted Parker's story. 'You know, if you want to get the story right."

"It's not the point of the story, Paper Boy!" yelled Parker, clearly annoyed. "But, fine, Abnormal Psych it is. Anyhow, this guy, this professor, he just flips out one Halloween night. He goes completely berserk, right. He grabs a hunting knife," Parker grabbed a plastic butter knife from off the coffee table and spun it through his fingers. Natalie sipped on her latte, entirely captivated by his story. "Strolls into Stanley Hall, and bangs on every door." He banged his fist on the table. Bang, bang, bang. Natalie and Brenda both smirked and glanced at each other, impressed with Parker's storytelling ability.

"And every student that opens their door, he takes that knife and cuts their throat," he feigned slashing his throat with the butter knife, "from ear to ear. Yeah, just does away with an entire floor, before, finally, stabbing himself straight through the heart!" He took the butter knife, turned it against himself, and pushed it into his chest, leaning back and groaning as he did so. Natalie grinned and took another sip. Brenda shook her head in amusement at Parker's enthusiasm in recounting a horrific massacre.

"And thus, the annual Omega Sigma Phi Halloween bash." He finished the story and dropped the knife to the table and kicked his feet up onto the couch.

Brenda leaned forward. "So, you're telling me that you have a frat party to commemorate a massacre?"

A smug grin appeared on Parker's face and he nodded. "You betcha."

"Let me get this straight, Parker, 50 years ago when this happened, you were a sophomore?" Paul had decided to join in on the conversation.

"Funny!" Parker mock smiled as Paul plunked himself down on the empty chair between the two couches.

"Well, it's the same bullshit story you'll hear on every campus on the northeast coast." Paul dismissed the story as if he'd looked into its viability hundreds of times, just in case he could make a story of it for himself.

"Thank you. I mean, where's the proof?" Natalie had heard this story many times over, each time the details a little different, but they all had one thing in common: no one could ever back it up with evidence.

"You see, that's the thing. Pendleton knew damn well that enrollment would suffer permanently, so, in cahoots with the national news media and other powerful sources-"

"Like Lee Harvey Oswald? Or was it Jack Ruby?" Paul enjoyed ribbing Parker; he took a shot any chance he could. "No, no, no. I know who it was. It was that FBI guy who used to prance around in women's underwear. He's the one that covered it up."

Paul's phone beeped and he read the message.

"Oh, that's the newsroom. I've gotta go; got a life."

"Hey, Paul. If there's another E. Coli crisis in the cafeteria, I want you to have the biggest, juiciest burger on me." Parker held out a 5 dollar bill and Paul snatched it.

"I'd love to. That article nearly got me the Student Pulitzer." Paul waltzed away without another word.

"Bye, Paul," Brenda called after him.

"Bye, Paul," Parker imitated, mockingly. "That guy doesn't care about anybody or anything that doesn't turn into a story with his name on it. See you two later." He left Natalie and Brenda on the couch.

"He's such a babe, though," Brenda sighed, partially agreeing with Parker.

* * *

Natalie and Brenda walked together down a path and came to a stop outside the entrance to the Radio Station. Their hair blew in the wind and Natalie turned up the collar of her coat to protect her neck. Sasha's producer, Jason, exited the building and smiled at the two girls as he passed. Natalie checked her watch.

"Sasha's late. Should be out any minute."

Brenda looked as if she was holding back something she desperately wanted to say, then finally relented.

"If Parker's story is true and all those people were murdered, why haven't they torn down Stanley Hall?"

Natalie sighed. "Because the story isn't true; it's just a legend."

"If it's just a legend then what's the problem?"

"I won't encourage this."

"Come on, Natalie. Cut me a little slack; this is half the reason I transferred here," Brenda argued. "Now, what exactly happens if I stand in front of Stanley Hall and say "Bloody Mary" five times?"

"The person next to you wonders how you got into University in the first place." Natalie meant this; how could any rational person truly believe a story like that without proof.

"You're scared, Natalie!"

"Yeah, right!"

Natalie saw Sasha exit the Radio Station at a bit of a run while she fixed her hair. She waved to Natalie and Brenda as she approached.

"Then come on and let's do this!"

Brenda waved to Sasha and motioned for her to hurry up as she was apparently now very eager to get to Stanley Hall.

"Sasha, come on! Time to raise the dead!"

Brenda grabbed both Natalie's and Sasha's wrists as she dragged them off to Stanley Hall.

"What are we doing..?" Sasha

"I don't believe this…" Natalie mumbled as she was reluctantly pulled along.

The three girls arrived, breathless, in front of Stanley Hall. Brenda was clearly excited, while Natalie felt highly apprehensive. Sasha seemed to be going along for the ride and was evidently game for any excitement. The front doors of the abandoned building were boarded up, some of the wooden planks broken or rotting.

"Okay." Brenda sneaked in a sly smile in Natalie's direction. "Bloody Mary!" Her voice was much lower than usual, the type of voice one would use to scare children. All three girls giggled and snuck looks at each other. Sasha joined in on the chant this time.

"Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary!"

Stanley Hall loomed ominously; Natalie was obviously a little spooked.

"Bloody Mary!" she said, flatly. Brenda and Sasha looked over at Natalie, disappointed. It was plain to them that she was not having as much fun as they were.

"Good, no answer. Maybe they're screening." Natalie had already turned around to leave when they heard it: a pained, ghoulish moan. All three girls stopped in their tracks. Whatever it was moaned again.

Brenda had back up far enough that she was now side by side with Natalie; Natalie grabbed Brenda's hand. Sasha turned back to the Natalie and Brenda, a look of curiosity overcoming her. "No, Sasha." Natalie admired Sasha, but this wasn't bravery; she was simply being foolish. Sasha stepped closer, and then closer, the moaning becoming more pained with each step.

When Sasha was mere inches from the front door, a hand grabbed her and pulled her tight. Sasha screamed, and so did Natalie and Brenda. Then there was laughter. Damon, that asshole, emerged from behind the door, howling. Sasha held her hand to her heart and shoved him playfully.

"We were trying to summon the dead, Damon. Not frat boys with badly grown facial hair," Natalie said. Damon looked offended. He stroked at the wisps of hair upon his chin.

"It took me a month to grow this."

Brenda shook her head, not having any of this interaction. "See you in class tomorrow, jerk!" She grabbed Natalie's arm and marched away. Natalie waved goodbye to Sasha and Damon, who'd walk back to the fraternity house together, where Damon was a new member.

"You know," she said. "He was halfway normal until pledge week."


End file.
